Undark: My Name is Smackle
by Taylor Hearts CH
Summary: A series of short prose works (drabbles, if you will) featuring Isadora Smackle. Note that these works are fiction, and I do not own GMW or characters associated with such. In-progress for now because there are six stories in this series, and four have been completed.
1. Rescue

My name is Isadora Smackle. I'm a teenager. I live in New York. I have Asperger's Syndrome.

I'm a science geek. I aspire to be a future astronaut, but at the pace I'm going, it's not likely to happen.

Ever since I was five, my parents were given a better understanding for why I act so advanced for my age.

My heart belongs to one Farkle Minkus. He is my equal intellect. My arch rival in some areas. My unlike force. Ever since I found out he thought he might have Asperger's Syndrome, I've grown fonder of him, and so have his friends. His blue eyes, the way the lights reflect his structural countenance, that time he made me quiver with the word "apropos." _Damn you, Farkle Minkus. I'm under your spell forever._

See, part of having Asperger's Syndrome means I struggle with understanding human behavior. I can't understand emotions. I don't think I'm capable of love. I just know that I'm comfortable around Farkle because we have so much in common. But, I have heard the adage "like forces repel." When Farkle tested negative for Asperger's, we became "opposites." Now I propose this question: Why do I understand love if it's with Farkle? And, more importantly, what about Farkle?

One of Mr. Matthews's lectures involved a debate between my boyfriend and his childhood best friend, Riley Matthews. Riley is kind of a cuckoo-nutter, but I love her anyway. She lost because she failed to see to both sides of the story. The sun is always shining, regardless of what time of day it is. And so are the stars.

I guess Farkle could call me his "stars." Does that make me a collective plasma bound together by gravity? Am I just one ball of heat? Why do I shine?

...

He came to my rescue one day while walking with Lucas and Zay. I was studying at Topanga's by myself when a couple of snobby girls walked up to me. They looked just like Riley and Maya, but they were eviler. The Riley lookalike had a smoothie in her hand. She leaned over my table and dumped the smoothie over my head, covering my glasses. It was so cold. I was shivering in shock. I didn't see the girls run away. However, I sensed the guys coming toward me, offering to help me clean up.

"Smackle, are you all right?" It's hot-stuff Lucas talking to me.

"Oh, I'll be fine," I said as I tried to wipe my face.

I'm trying not to hold in my emotions and tears. If those girls knew I was sensitive to ice cold, they would've spilled the shake on somebody else! Why me? I think I'm crying. Have I cracked?

I felt one person hold my hand while Farkle held my other hand. I know his grip anywhere. I squeezed his hand to help subside my crying. Whosever hand is in my right hand better not... Nevermind. The third guy gripped my shoulder with one hand to wipe the rest of my face with a towel in the other hand. I took my glasses off and noticed three manly blobs surrounding me. I cried even more because I am so grateful that my boyfriend and his friends helped me when I needed it, even if I didn't want it. I leaned toward Farkle and sobbed in his shoulder. He is my comfort space. He tightly embraced me until I calmed down.

For that, I am forever grateful. He came to me in my time of need. _Farkle, wherever you are, thank you. I love you, Farkle._


	2. Sweetie?

I blanked out.

I woke up from Riley's snapping her fingers in front of my face. I must've dozed off in the bleachers during gym class. I usually take my breathing breaks at the bleachers. Why did I wake up in the bleachers?

The girls were running suicides while I sat and watched. I don't know why I'm sitting. I don't even remember waking up for school, either. Guess I better get up and start running, or Coach will be upset. I'm taking it easy, no harm to my body done. I hate sweating. I know it's a natural bodily function, but I don't like how it feels on my skin. Coach stopped me and notice I've been slacking off. She then sends me to the showers. I thought I was doing just fine?

I stripped naked and turned on the showers. The water was the perfect temperature. I heard footsteps. Those aren't my classmates' footsteps. Someone's trying to attack me?!

I slowly backed myself to the corner and curled my body up into a ball. My emotions were running on high. Next thing I knew, the fluorescent light bulbs began to crack. The lights flickered on and off. I was screaming because I didn't know what to do. Then the lights just... exploded! My head started aching after all that had happened. The showers started turning on, hoping to wipe out the smoke that fumed from the broken glass. I also noticed a barrier, a spherical barrier surrounding me. I made that happen? It looks like it's made of glass, but it's just gas. These are my emotions protecting me from danger. Am I crazy?

As they strapped my body on the gurney and wheeled me to the ambulance, I opened my eyes to see the guys again. They're the paramedics? Wow, I should cry for help more often, should I not? What's more interesting is that they spoke with British accents, Cockney, I believe. Or maybe it was Scouse? Farkle reassured me that I'm in the best possible hands: his. Lucas said he'd never let me go. Zay called me sweetie.

 _Nobody calls me "sweetie" unless you're my father._

When Zay said that, I got so mad that one of the light bulbs started dimming. As they reacted, they, too, panicked. Yet, they didn't know why. We arrived at the hospital. The guys take me to my room and hook me up with these devices. I thought to myself, _I'm not a robot._ I tried to say something, but Farkle stuck an oxygen mask on my face. Then Lucas plugged one of the tubes into a small tank of what is supposed to be oxygen. I was wrong. It tasted like cotton candy, but the after effects sure are... tiring...

I woke up. I wanted to know what happens next! I guess I'll never know.


	3. Requiem

I... am a scientist. I felt angrier than that guy on the television who throws chairs into the walls. That's because something went wrong with my results on an experiment. All these experiments at work, they put me under so much stress. When I'm stressed, I get angry for no reason. I lash out at anyone who talks to me. The worst possible person to have received the brunt of my anger? My honey buckets, Farkle Minkus. I don't think he's forgiven me. It's only been a few days.

And my mood just got worse. I was speed-walking through the main lobby to my office. Unfortunately, Darby got my attention.

"Smackle, there's a call for you."

"Not now, Darby. Tell them I'll call back. I'm busy."

"It's Farkle. He sounds persistent."

Crying, I ran toward my office door and slammed it. The momentum pushed a few papers into the air and forced a vase to fall to the hard carpet. Like I care. I'm under enough stress at work. Farkle is the last person I wanted to talk to.

Then again, he's the only one I know who will talk to me. As I pick up the phone, my words just let out.

"I want to see you."

...

I walked past the open front door of his bachelor pad. He sat there on the couch watching the blank flat-screen television until he saw my reflection in the border.

"Isadora."

He stood up, turned around, hopped the couch, and ran to me for a kiss. This was the kiss I've been longing for. Not that he was bad before, but this situation warranted it. He crashed his soft lips onto mine as I sadly smiled.

Breaking the kiss, he apologizes, "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you."

"I'm sorry I forced you into this mess," I apologized in return.

"You want to?"

"Just say the word, and I'm yours."

"Okay."

I can finally cave into my feelings without guilt washing over me. His lips, consistency of marshmallows. Tongue, velvety like my favorite cake. Hands rough. His hair, soft. Au naturale. Perfect. Just the way I like it. He pushed me against the wall and began exploring my skin with his soft lips. God. He knows where to love the right spots. He's showing me the love that I've craved since I knew what sex was. This was perfect. This was love that I'm feeling.

While he was kissing down my exposed skin, I let my black blazer coat slide off my arms. I caressed his head as he sucked on a pulse point on my neck. My natural voice hit a high note long and hard until it gave out, and so did my body. I forget the rest.


	4. Gamble

I was at my old stomping grounds, Einstein Academy, playing cards with Shanna Harker, the evilest of bitches in society. My clique and their clique get together every Friday during lunch to gamble. It was fun sometimes when we won. When we lost, we hated it. I may have lost the biggest bet of my life in a game of five-card poker.

By the last five minutes of lunch period, I had lost my shoes and my glasses. I was vulnerable. I didn't know what else to wager with my three jacks in hand. I knew I had this hand won, so I bet the most valuable thing in my life.

"I'll make you a deal, Harker. If you win this hand, I'll give you something so valuable that you can't put a price on it. You can't even buy it at a store! You can only have it for 48 hours, and I'll want it back. You in?"

"I'm game. I've only gone toe-to-toe with you for the last hour. I've got your shoes, and you lost your eyesight. What else could you possibly cough up?"

...

"How was your poker game with Shanna?" Farkle asked.

"I lost," I cried.

"I can tell. You're not wearing your glasses. Or your good shoes."

"I lost even bigger."

"How could you lose bigger? What did you give up this time?"

"I lost... you, Farkle. I lost you."

"What?"

"I bet our relationship, and I lost. Miserably. Farkle, I'm so sorry. The only thing you can do now is go through this with her until Sunday night, 6:00 pm. Don't flirt with her. She'll think you dumped me for her. I just want you to get my stuff back."

"You used me as a poker chip and lost me? Smackle, you have hit a new low. What does this mean for us?"

"We're just not... gonna be together for the weekend, that's all."

"This is gonna be the worst weekend of my life."

"Me, too."

...

That Friday night, I sat in my laboratory alone, unable to see clearly. I gave away the one thing that means the most to me. I can only hope he's okay. Shanna Harker is a bad girl. I always wonder whatever happened to her that made her behave like this.

Farkle tapped on my window, and I let him in.

"I got your glasses back for you."

He does care. I'm just confused as to why he got them back two days early. A deal's a deal. I hugged him in thanks. As he put my glasses back on my face, he kissed my cheek. I felt lost, just like the Ugly Duckling.

"How did you get my glasses back?"

"Let's just say I'd do anything for you. I asked Shanna what I had to do to get my girlfriend's eyesight back. I may have hit a new low myself."

"What did you do?"

I didn't need to hear it. My someone had an affair with someone else. He had this "Don't make me answer that" look on his face. He cheated. This _is_ a new low for him. Do I leave him or not? I held his hands in mine, hoping this was a joke.

"You know I would never cheat on you, Isadora."

"Then what did you do, Farkle? Please, tell me what you did," I cried. If he didn't cheat, what could he have done?

"Shanna said I'd have to do 'it' with her, but I told her I was saving myself."

"And?"

"So, I took them from her secret spot when she wasn't looking."

My frown slowly curved into a smile. My beloved, the kleptomaniac. I knew he was a sneaky little thing.

"I hid them in my backpack, hoping she wouldn't notice," he explained as I kept smiling.

I hugged him as an expression of my gratitude. I think he is the one for me. Who cares if like forces repel? Something just glued us together.


End file.
